In The Shadow Of Our Times
by Mish-wolfinmoonlight
Summary: Brin, a young woman earning her keep as a servant in Minas Tirith, sets out on a journey to find the kin of her mother. This is the story of what befell her on her travels and the small part she played in the war of the ring. Please Review.
1. Grey Morning

1: Grey Morning  
  
It was the second hour before dawn and the city of Minas Tirith lay hushed as with slumber, removed from the chill that rested ever upon these hours.  
  
Brin pulled a thick green shirt over her brown felt leggings and beaten black boots as she passed through the little kitchen, adjusting the worn leather belt around her waist as she went, on which was hung a sword of little lineage in an even more worn brown leather scabbard. Her long, rich brown hair she tied in a single braid that hung almost the whole length of her back. She paused to stoke the dying embers of the fire that she had left to dwindle only six hours past and threw on the two faggots left from yesterday before she passed soundlessly out of the side door. She paused in the alleyway and turned her head to see the sinking moon and her green-brown eyes, the irises ringed with a soft grey, shone and sparkled in its light. She bowed her head in greeting and moved out into the street.   
  
The Kings Hearth Inn was in the third circle and as she passed through the city all about her was quiet but not still. Here and there in the middle distance guards moved about the walls and once a swift messenger from Ithilien passed her, clad all in green and horseless. The tower of guard did not sleep.  
  
When she reached the gates of the citadel Brin stopped and leant against the cold stone walls of one of the finer dwellings of the city. It lay now empty and cheerless. She was late, but Beregond was later coming from duty. Now, standing still, the morning air wrapped itself around her and she thought longingly of her old green cloak hanging on its peg in the kitchen. Her breath came out in little silver clouds that whirled away as if caught in the wake of the larger ones that slid across the paling sky, marring those stars that still endured. And though it was partly due to the cloudlessness that she shivered she begrudged even this slight parting. She turned her face from the sky but the star shimmer in her eyes remained.  
  
Now, some sixty strides distant, she saw the figure of Beregond coming from the dusky gloom, and it was welcome indeed. Beregond was a soldier of the Third Company and had long been her friend in the city. He was strong and tall in stature and though humble was worthy of great praise for his deeds and bearing as a soldier.  
  
She walked forwards out of the shadows to meet him and they turned together towards the lower courtyard.  
  
The moon glinted white on the steel as they drew their swords. For more than a year Beregond had been instructing her in the sword and though he often protested he was inadequate for the task, she knew she could find no better teacher within all the realm of Gondor unless it was Captain Faramir himself. But their training was erratic, for neither one could get away every morning, nor indeed could often be present even when meetings were arranged for there were many demands on the time of a guard of the tower and just as many on the time of a multi-purpose maid in a popular Inn. Though in these latter days popular meant a lot less work than it used to.   
  
They were not long into their first round when Brin sent the sword from his hand and had her own blade at his throat. He fell back on the frosted cobbles and laughed, "Too good, too good." Brin extended a hand and pulled him up. He brought his sword with him and advanced on her again. Four more times they fought and four more times Beregond was bested. At last he stood back from her and raised his hands in surrender. He smiled at her and said, "Little light, you outshine me." Brin laughed and sheathed her sword. "It has been many weeks since I have been able to teach you anything. Alas, I think our time as teacher and student is at an end."  
  
Brin remembered the first time those words had been said to her, by the elf, Aldalöme. Weary of Mirkwood and making his slow way to the sea, he had journeyed south to see the lands he would leave, one last time so as to remember them better. He had tarried in the city, long in her short life but only a brief space of time for him, and had taught her the elven tongues and the elvish versions of lays taught to her by Mithrandir in her youth, which were far fairer than their counterparts in the Westron. Mithrandir had been the only teacher to part from her saying "You have much yet to learn". But she said only to Beregond,   
  
"That is well, for it will give us more time to be friends." They clasped hands and Brin, seeing how the sky had lightened, took her leave of him and turned back towards the inn.   
  
It was a long winding way back through the city and as her road turned her towards the east she saw the first yellow gleam of a sun still clinging to the pallor of winter and she thought again of Mithrandir. Unbidden into her mind came the words he had spoken to her as a young girl.  
  
"When I found you as a babe, in a bed of soft spring flowers, wild violets and fallen cherry blossoms they were, amongst the roots of an old tree, it was as if the whole forest had come to care for you and make you smile. The finches and sparrows sung for you in the bowers above, rabbits and other such woodland creatures that gathered by your bed and the moon and stars shone down upon you as bright as I have ever seen them. I think, had there been a creature amongst them large enough, it would have carried you away and raised you as its own. But it was your doom that an old man was the first creature of adequate size to reach you in his wanderings."  
  
He had painted a beautiful picture in her mind but always she had known that only a stones throw from the rabbits and the finches her mother lay dead with an orc arrow in her back.  
  
Now she longed to see Mithrandir again and have his company and council. Doubts and troubles had played on her mind since his last visit two autumns ago. He had come to her briefly while on some other business in the city to say only that he had found the kin of her mother in the north. She was a daughter or the Dúnadan. It had meant little to her that day for she was also a daughter of Haelwen, who owned the Kings Hearth and had taken her in and raised her and given her a means by which to earn her keep. But ever after that day she found herself looking north and wondering, for there was always a pull from those countries beyond the border that she had not yet seen and now the feeling had a thought to go with it. She would not leave the white city but her heart would not have her altogether forsake the north. So she went to the young lad who cared for the horses and brought him his meal in the evening and he taught her to ride. And it chanced that in her labours she met Beregond and Aldalöme, who besides teaching her the grey and high eleven tongues taught her all he knew of archery and weapons craft.  
  
She was suddenly aware that she was completely prepared and almost all of her excuses no longer held. She could ride to the satisfaction of those who trained the city's cavalry. She could wield sword as well as any man on guard in the city though she was unseasoned in battle and she could draw bow better than most men for only elves have truly mastered that craft. She knew herb lore, for healing. Forestry and hunting, for living and her work at the inn had trained her for long weary hours. She knew well the lore of all lands for in her time with Mithrandir their minds had wandered together through time and throughout all the lands of middle-earth. The maps of all lands men had ever visited were ready in her mind and her journey was planned. All her shortcomings were only in experience of the world. And yet she walked back to the inn in calm silence and passing through the kitchen, now warmed by the fire, she came to her own small room. Noiselessly she changed into her soft wool liene and the courser blue wool dress she wore over it.   
  
As was her chore everyday she came to the kitchen as the rest of the house was stirring and began to make the days bread. Soon Haelwen would come and make the breakfast for what few guests they had and when she thought of Haelwen, Brin felt she could not leave. Though she knew if she didn't that her heart would wither inside her like a flower drawn early from the soil and left long by the fire and the light would go from her eyes. There was nothing left to learn in the white city. Empty home of kings. 


	2. The North Wind Blows

2: The North Wind Blows  
  
The sun was lying on the horizon, blazing red and gold, when Brin ran out of chores and was given leave to spend the rest of the day as she would. Almost every guest that they had entertained the night before had left and only the old men of the city who had no one left at home to cook them a hot meal, or at least no one left to eat it with, would be would be wanting their services when the time came for the evening meal and it was already on the stove waiting for them.   
  
Brin pulled on her boots, wrapped the old cloak around her and unbound her hair as she headed out into the city. This time she turned away from the lofty citadel and towards the great gate. She walked briskly until she passed out into the fields and then she broke into a run, delighting in the simple feeling of freedom it gave her.  
  
She went straight to Mîrran, the wild horse in the far pasture. When Brin had left the city only to gather herbs with the women or alone to walk a while on the grass she had met this horse and called her friend. Mîrran would suffer no man of the city to ride her for she was not raised by men. Perhaps the Rohirrim, gentle with beasts and used to their ways, could have tamed her for she was not proud, just unused to company and commands.   
  
As she approached the low fence that encircled the pasture, Mîrran came to meet her. Her coat was a rich deep brown, the colour of polished wood from the hard trees of the south, and her dark mane streamed thick and silken behind her as she ran. Brin's heart smiled to see her and the horse neighed loud in greeting. In that hour of sunset Brin told to Mîrran all the troubles of her heart for the horse knew her well and understood the grey-elven speech and had long been party to her plans and dreams. As Brin was speaking the silver moon rose early in the North-East and illuminated the signs of spring that in her frivolity, Brin had missed. New leaves and buds braved the cold air in the branches of the trees beyond the fields and here and there in the grass small spring flowers were closing their fragile petals against the coming night. As she saw these things a fresh wind blew from the north and ran its gentle fingers through her hair that glowed silver and gold in the sunset and moonlight. Brin's heart and mind balanced and at last she made her decision. She looked back to her friend.  
  
"When I go, will you come with me?"  
  
Mîrran stamped her feet and it seemed she spoke to Brin of cages and shadows. For a time the two stood in silent conversation and Brin knew that when she called, Mîrran would come.   
  
"For I know you can jump that fence as though it were naught but a clod of earth, friend, and have ever longed to do so. This city is too small for you… and for me too."  
  
The sun had slunk lower in the sky and Brin, kissing the horse on the forehead, turned and ran back to the city. She reached the gate just as it was being closed, as was the custom these days, at last light.  
  
She ran on into the city and followed its twists and turns until she came to the mess as the men of the companies were leaving and caught Beregond by the arm. He had been lost in thought and started at her sudden appearance and he started again when he saw her. As he had long been used to her in her fighting gear, clothed as like to any man who was not on duty as could be. But now she stood before him, long curling hair loose about her pale face, flushed with running and the wind, and her long blue dress that swung about her ankles in the breeze. Not only this but she seemed to him very different from the person he had seen that morning. Sterner but also lighter of heart and mind.   
  
By now the other soldiers had passed on to duties or rest and the street was empty. Beregond, seeing a new sparkle in the eyes of his friend asked, "What are you going to do?"  
  
Brin smiled sadly, "I am going to leave."  
  
"Leave?"   
  
"My mother's kin dwell in the north. Many seasons has it been in my heart to seek them out. I can do no more here, Beregond."  
  
"I at least do not doubt your ability to defend yourself," he said, rubbing a new bruise on his side. "But must you leave? No, I see that you must. Have you at least some surer destination than north?"  
  
"The grave of my grandfather lies on the shores of Lake Evendim in Arnor, the realm that was lost. I shall begin my search there."  
  
"And what do you expect to find?"  
  
"I do not know."  
  
Beregond sighed for he saw there was no staying her, and even if there was he had not the right.   
  
"I would go with you."  
  
"Your part is here." Brin said. She did not know of the foresight of her people and even if she did she would not have believed the gift had passed to her. But she had it none the less, and at times it was strong in her. "I shall return to the white city and this will not be our last parting."  
  
"I hope you are right, dear friend." They clasped hands and embraced, and then both turned away into the darkening city.   
  
When Brin came to the inn, Haelwen was sitting by the kitchen fire, her tired feet propped on a stool before her and her sewing basket on her lap.  
  
Brin took off her cloak and boots and came to sit at her side on the warm stones. This parting was most difficult for her.  
  
"Mother, I mean to go forth from the city and seek my kin in the north."  
  
Haelwen put aside her sewing and smiled down at Brin, "I knew this day would come. And for two years I have been expecting it, though the sorrow long expected is not less sorrowful."  
  
Brin marvelled at this for often she thought her guardian knew her not at all and could not see her heart, though she loved her and knew her to be wise. "I will return."  
  
"I know you will, petal, because you're strong and learn quickly. But in these dark times every parting may well be a last parting."  
  
The two women stood and embraced; the older, shorter and more care worn, the younger, tall and fair like a sapling whose first flowers have appeared and to the wonder of all they are made of steel.   
  
At last Haelwen drew back. "Well, if you will be off in the morning you will need your rest."  
  
Again Brin wondered at Haelwen's seeing for she had mentioned to no one save her friend in the pasture that she intended to leave so soon but she could think of nothing more to say to one who had been parent and friend to her for many pleasant years. 


	3. Of Hounds

3: Of Hounds  
  
When Brin awoke the room was dark and cold but her mind was clear. Even though the small square of light that came to her room filtered first down into the narrow alley she could see it was more than an hour before dawn. She dressed quickly and rolled up her liene, putting it in her pack where the blue dress and some other small packages already lay. To this she added a close woven blanket before she could endure the cold on her bare feet no longer. She went to the kitchen and stoked the fire before taking from inside her boots a pair of wool socks she had knitted herself which tied around the calf with string.  
  
The long table in the centre of the kitchen was clear save for a small cloth bag on which had been drawn carefully in ink the letter B. Inside Brin found a store of dried fruits and meats, a small amount of nuts and a large flat loaf made with seeds. Beside this lay an old leather water bottle which she filled from the basin by the door.   
  
Brin gathered all her things to the kitchen and began to stow them in and about the pack. Amongst these were her sword in its beaten sheath and most prised of possessions, her bow, made by her own hands under the instruction of Aldalöme. With this went an improvised quiver, a tapered tube of leather stitched to the side of her pack, filled with the elf's own arrows, fashioned by fletchers in Mirkwood. These would have been greatly prized by her, above even her bow, but she knew that, though she could love them, she could not treasure them, for one day they would be used in conflict and in using would be broken and lost.  
  
When Brin was satisfied she sat by the fire to break her fast with yesterday's crusts and some small amount of the rabbit stew that the old men did not finish at supper. When she had finished there was a gentle knock at the door. It had begun to rain lightly and the rain water was icy cold and when she opened the door there Beregond, damp but unbowed, holding in his arms a small cloth bundle. Quickly she stepped aside and let him in. He did not go straight to the fire as she expected but instead stood before her and handed over the bundle. "It's not much but I am glad I caught you."  
  
She unwrapped the package carefully and found to her delight a tarnished steel mail shirt. She lifted it before her, letting the cloth wrapping drift to the floor at her feet. She looked past it to Beregond.  
  
"I have no words to thank you."  
  
"It will be thanks enough if you wear it always." He said. "I will feel better with the knowledge that you are in the wilds if I also know you are as safe as I alone can keep you."  
  
Brin put it on and it fit her well. She did not know but it had been made for Beregond when he joined the guard, before he increased in muscle and stature.  
  
"I do not love farewells so I will take my leave of you now." Beregond smiled, inclined his head towards her and turned towards the door.  
  
"Blessings go with you."  
  
"And with you, little light."  
  
Brin stood between the city and the pelennor wall, wrapped in her cloak unheeding of the weather, for though the clouds were heavy the rain was still light. She was not looking back towards the city but North beyond the wall. The clouds in the sky parted briefly just in the direction she was looking and the silver moon was revealed to her, riding in a lilac sky beyond. Brin raised her voice in one crystal clear shout.   
  
It was not long before she saw the graceful figure of Mîrran galloping across the fields towards her. As they walked together towards the wall, Mîrran cantering happily to and fro, Brin's heart was easy for it seemed her path was already laid before her feet.  
  
It was nearing noon and the white city was still there to be seen if either had turned around, when the rain turned to snow. Such frosty weather was uncommon in early spring in Gondor and the travellers were puzzled but not deterred.   
  
They walked on until nightfall and found themselves on the borders of the Druadan forest at the feet of Amon Din. There they made camp a little way from the road for darkness was deepening fast under the weighted clouds. The snow at least had stopped.  
  
They had rested at noon and Mîrran had grazed but Brin had not eaten, although she had taken some water. Thus before they went to rest Brin ate a piece of the bread and a little dried meat and they walked a little way into the forest until they came to a small clean stream. Its waters were chilled by the snowfall so Brin drank only what was left in her water bottle and refilled it from the stream. Mîrran drank deep without heed or hurt.  
  
The morning dawned clearer and the clouds were moving swiftly across the lightening sky. Brin found she had slept well, rolled in her blanket on the forest floor. The road followed the borders of the forest and all that day they walked under its eves. Most of the trees were evergreen but here and there new buds and leaves were appearing on the trees left bare by the autumn before. They rested only once at noon as before and Brin found it easy to eat only at sunrise and sunset was glad that it would lengthen the time before she had to take time from her journey to hunt.  
  
  
  
The next day Brin awoke and knew that her companion was restless. She got up and went to her.  
  
"Would you be released of my company and run free in these lands?"  
  
The horse nuzzled her cheek and her eyes spoke to Brin of the swift errand riders of Gondor and Brin understood.  
  
So that day they did not walk but rode together along the road, passing the northern borders of the forest not an hour after dawn. And Brin found that Mîrran bore her well and that she had no need of saddle or bridle and did not miss them. She knew that riding would half the time she had thought her journey would take and was glad.   
  
So it was that they came at sunset on the fourth day from Minas Tirith to the Mering stream and the end of the realm of Gondor. Before them stretched the wide fields of Rohan where the horse lords dwelt. Mîrran slowed her pace to a halt at the eves of the Firienwood from which the stream ran and Brin's mind wandered for the first time from the northern horizon. She dismounted and walked towards the trees. In her mind the voice of Mithrandir was telling her again of their first meeting.  
  
"It was on the borders of this realm and I had walked far in few days, I was relieved to know I had come to the realm of Gondor and grieved when I got there…"  
  
It was this wood, Brin knew that certainly, and the memory came clear and unbidden to her mind. She could picture the scene as Mithrandir had found it and so deep was she in thought that it seemed to her she could hear the tramping of orc feet in the near distance. She started, for there were noises in the forest as of many foul creatures that stamped and broke and gave no heed to the tracks they left. The beginnings of anger stirred in Brin and she fought for calm. Then in the forest before her a noise arose of a deep growling and then there was a great clamour of braying and howling and cruel snarls and then the noise of a heavy bow being loosed that chilled Brin's heart. She crept forwards and up a slope in the land and came upon a fierce battle below her between a band of orcs and a small pack of hounds, wild creatures, all shaggy grey fur and bright eyes, but large and strong in stature so that they recalled to Brin Huan, the hound of Valinor, though much diminished.   
  
They were largely outnumbered and it seemed the orcs were making sport with their foes. Silently Brin unslung her bow from her back and strung it. She fitted and arrow and took aim at the orc who seemed to be leading the foray. The one with the bow. The arrow pierced his eye but so intent were the orcs on their play that his fall went unnoticed save by a few who looked about warily. Brin shot down two more before the rest of their number took heed. Five now lay dead, three by her bow and the hounds had torn down two. There were nine left. Brin shot two more only before her position was discovered. She left her bow in the foliage and drew her sword. She hewed down one while surprise was still her friend but she was soon encircled by the six that remained and she did not like the odds. Suddenly one of the wild hounds was by her side, dark blood on his muzzle and a fell light in his eyes. The orcs advanced and together they sprang upon them.   
  
  
  
Brin had fought as though these were the very orcs that had slain her mother, and for all anyone knew they might have been, and the hound fought with the same fury. Only when it was all over did Brin understand why.   
  
There had been five hounds in the pack. The older male lay dead in the midst of the carnage, hewed by several blades, with his jaws still locked onto the throat of the orc he had brought down. Two younger females, sisters to the survivor, lay together, backed into a corner and outnumbered they had died under the cruel orc blades. The young male went now to the last to fall. The alpha female lay wounded to the death with an orc arrow in her shoulder but that was not her chief hurt. Her skull had been dashed against the rocks and was beyond the skill of any to heal. She took her last breath as her son stood over her and let out a long mournful howl. Brin suffered for this grief and a single tear rolled down her cheek as she stood rooted to the ground, sword dripping orc blood on the trampled grass. The hound stood and came to her, lying down at her feet. He rolled over and bared his throat. "I am at your mercy," the gesture said. But Brin knelt until she could look the hound in the eye and they understood one another.  
  
Brin gathered her arrows, all undamaged but soiled, and climbed the bank to collect her bow. She unstrung it and replaced it about her pack. The hound followed at her heel. When she returned to the road she said to Mîrran, "This is a friend." Then she turned to the hound and said, "Your mother, who now runs in green fields with your ancestors, gave you a name which I would not take from you, but I must call you something. So I will call you only what you are, Thalion, and I am not your master but your friend."  
  
The hound came and stood beside her and it seemed he understood all that was said to him and would no longer follow at heel.   
  
They went to the stream and Brin and Thalion washed the foul blood from themselves and all drank deep. They crossed the stream and slept the night on the bank. In the wake of the skirmish, Brin was only dimly aware that she was outside the realm of Gondor for the first time in her life. She slept deep and woke only once to find the hound had moved to lie against her side and was whimpering in her sleep.   
  
The sky was blue the next morning and what clouds there were were still passing quickly. The sun was warmer than it had been for a long while. Thalion seemed to take comfort in his companions and trotted at Mirran's feet, sometimes darting off to sniff the ground or air, but ever returning to their side. When they halted at noon, Thalion did not rest but ran some distance ahead, returning quickly with a rabbit in his jaws. He offered it first to Brin who refused it kindly, then to Mîrran who seemed to laugh as she grazed, before settling down to eat it himself. 


	4. Of Horses

4: Of Horses  
  
When nightfall came upon them they had gone some distance into the realm of the Rohirrim and Brin thought their land fair. To the west of the road the Ered Nimrais still towered tall and proud but no trees now stood between the road and their deep roots. Less than a days ride east the Entwash flowed fast and strong through field and fen. There was no shelter or any such place as Brin would usually choose for a camp so they settled for a small hollow in the land on the East of the road. The turf was springy and the grazing seemed much to Mîrran's liking, though there was little hunting for Thalion and no fresh water at hand. Brin ate only some bread, giving what little dried meat she had intended to eat to Thalion instead and then all went to rest.   
  
Brin awoke in utter darkness, there was not a star in the sky and the ground trembled faintly beneath her. Some distance away many horses were moving and closer at hand an abominable tramp of orc feet. Brin leapt to her feet and whispered to her companions. She mounted Mîrran and the three sped off in pursuit of the orcs.   
  
When they came upon them, some hours ride from the road, they found them already engaged in battle with armoured riders. There were perhaps thirty orcs and only twelve riders, but with bright swords and flaming brands they were making light work of the orcs. Thalion was spoiling for a fight and the part of Brin that though of every orc she met as the archer who murdered her mother would have been right there with him if she had not sensed a threat from the east. She nudged Mîrran and they turned away into the night, breaking into a run when the firelight was far enough behind. It was not long before Brin could see in the distance another party of orcs, some thirty or forty in number and moving swiftly. She had seen some of the skill of the riders but they could not hope to stand against this many without great losses. Brin readied her bow and took aim at the leading line. Each arrow she loosed found its target, but the orcs were aware of her from the first shot and she had to keep her distance. She would ride in to pick off one of their number and ride out again and any that came too close on her heels met the teeth of Thalion.   
  
She could see the fires of the riders as she knocked her last arrow in the bow, for the orcs had ever been moving west and north even as their number dwindled. Twenty-four fell dead from her arrows and four more from the wrath of Thalion. There were little more than a dozen remaining but Brin could only kill one more. That was when the riders took notice of the approaching enemy and most of their number broke off and rode out to meet them. Brin and her companions moved swiftly out of the way so as not to be caught in the circle of light thrown by the torches and exposed. She rode back along the trail of orc carcasses, salvaging her arrows. All but one that she could reach were undamaged and the fletchings at least could be saved from the other, but almost a third of them were within the ring of light. She hovered on the edge of the light and wondered what to do for the best and Mîrran stood calm beneath her. Thalion prowled too and fro, distressed at having orc blood in her mouth and on her paws and being unable to clean it.  
  
It was as Brin was hovering and wondering that the captain of the company of Rohirrim noticed amongst the felled orcs several pierced to the death with strange arrows, the like of which he had never seen in his lands before. He looked up from the battlefield and tried to see beyond the light cast by his men and gradually his eyes perceived a dim shape, a figure upon a horse, still as stone. He rode towards the stranger, taking a torch from one of his men, and called out, "Any man who would slay so many orcs and save the lives of my men is welcome in these lands."  
  
The figure did not move but replied in a clear, lilting voice, "And what about a woman?"  
  
The captain was most startled by this and made no reply but continued to move towards her. He saw first the hound at her feet, a great beast worthy of merit by the orc blood he wore, then raised his torch to see clearer. She sat upon a fine horse, unsaddled and free, and in her hand was a carved bow of the size used by his men. She was dressed only in simple greens and browns save for an old mail shirt and her cloak was travel-stained and well worn. But when he looked in her face his breath caught in his throat. She looked to him wild and strange but wondrous fair. Her skin was pale and as he looked upon her the moon sailed from behind a cloud and her brown hair, tied back in one braid which seemed unable to tame it completely, shone like silver and bronze. Starlight seemed to be reflected in the soft brown of her eyes, though there were no stars to be seen, and they were ringed with steel. He wondered first at her beauty then at her strength and he knew in that moment why two great beasts such as these would bind themselves to her. Because they loved her. At last he said, "I am Eomer, son of Eomund, third marshal of the mark."  
  
She smiled and replied. "I am called Brin, and I am but a traveller in these lands." For that was all she could say, knowing no father and having no rank or station.  
  
"Whither are you going? And why bother to ride to our aid at all? It is not usual for us to find such help in these dark times. It is most welcome."  
  
He held the torch so she could not see his face, but his bearing was valiant and noble and his voice seemed unable to speak untruths and so she trusted him.  
  
"I ride north, to the land of my kin, though I have dwelt all my life in Gondor and am a stranger to all other lands. And I would stand and slay orcs were I the only one who stood against them, for I loathe them greatly, and I would gladly aid all who would eradicate them from their lands. But grateful am I to have been of service to the brave riders of Rohan."  
  
"Grateful are we for you service, for it seems the battle may have gone ill had their reinforcements arrived in their full force. We ride now to Edoras and the King. Will you come with us and find rest in our halls? Surely a hot meal would not go amiss."  
  
"Surely it would not." And she spoke a few soft words in the elvish tongue to her companions and Eomer marvelled again. "We shall ride with you to Edoras."   
  
As they spoke the sun had been creeping above the horizon and now it rose in all its blazing glory and as she had been revealed to Eomer by moonlight, so was he revealed to her by the dawn. She saw a man tall and fair as the sons of Eorl were reported to be, and handsome in his own right. For he was young and strong and stern of face but his eyes were gentle and saw much. He looked to have already done great deeds and be capable of greater still. She saw now a captain that men could follow unto death and a man worthy of love. 


	5. Meduseld

5: Meduseld  
  
Brin quickly gathered the rest of her arrows and the company rode out from the battle. There were eleven riders and one empty saddle. If any were wounded they did not complain and they rode fast, for each and every man wished to reach Edoras before nightfall. Brin rode with Eomer at the head of the company and as they set out he said to her, "How is it that your kin dwell in the north but you have lived all this time in Gondor?"  
  
"My mother was slain by orcs on the southern borders of your land when I was but a babe-in-arms and I was found in the forest by Mithrandir and taken to Minas Tirith. I was raised there and knew nothing of my mother's people until two years ago. I still know little, only the resting place of her father, but that is a good place to start." Her eyes were distant as she said this and Eomer said gently.  
  
"It was only a few years hence that my father was killed by the orcs. He fell in battle, defending our lands and our people. Those who rode with him say it was a valiant death, but my mother was sorely grieved and did not live through the winter without him. I see now why you ride against the orcs when you have nothing but yourself to defend. But Mithrandir indeed? In our lands he is called Gandalf Greyhame, the grey pilgrim."  
  
They talked long and Eomer became more and more enrapt by his companion as she spoke of her life and all that she had learned and found himself speaking of things that he had told to few. And Brin also only grew fonder of him as he spoke and the sound of his voice seemed to soothe her heart.  
  
They did indeed come to Edoras before nightfall and the sun was setting such that its light still fell upon high Meduseld and it shone bright and golden like a beacon, welcoming the riders home.  
  
Edoras was encircled by a great fence and they had to ride round to the gate that faced eastwards across the plains. They passed through and into the city and Brin wondered at the streets of beaten turf and low wooden houses and saw how they were all open to the sky and though packed closely together seemed not so closed as the houses in the tower of guard. At the foot of the stone stair, carved like rocks in the hillside, that lead up to the great hall of kings, Eomer dismounted for he was to go first to the king and make his report. Brin went with the men to the stables.  
  
There she saw the full extent of the love of that people for horses. Never had she seen beasts better cared for or better understood and she was happy to leave Mîrran in their company and Mîrran, upon seeing the sweet hay in the stall, was happy to stay.   
  
She offered Thalion the choice of resting there with Mîrran but the hound would not be parted from her and she was glad for she had grown fond of his company in the short time they had known each other and would not be parted from him either.   
  
A young lad, perhaps a page in the king's court, met her at the stable door and led her to her lodgings. It was a single room in a long, low stone building under the shadow of Meduseld. The boy left her at the door and she showed herself inside. The last light of the sun still lit the room with a dim red glow but a fire had already been kindled in the small grate. The room was almost completely taken up by the low bed against the far wall. Brin threw herself upon it, in an effort to determine its quality, and found it comfier than her own bed in the Kings Hearth. It had been less than a week since she slept in it last and already it would seem like a lifetime ago if it were not for Haelwen and Beregond that she had left behind. Every time she took food from the cloth bag or drank from the water bottle she was reminded of Haelwen and the love she bore for her and every morning when Brin sat up and felt the weight of the mail shirt about her she thought kindly or Beregond. Now Brin was suddenly aware of the mail shirt and for the first time its weight seemed to drag on her shoulders. She had worn it every second since she had accepted the gift but she took it off now and felt she did no disloyalty to Beregond for she was sure she was safe in this city. She laid it carefully by her pack and, just because she enjoyed the feel of it, threw herself back down on the bed. Thalion, thinking some game was being played, barked and leapt onto the bed with her, pawing her stomach and nuzzling her neck. Brin laughed and joined his game, pawing him back and head butting him in the side.  
  
That was how Eowyn, lady of Rohan, came upon them and smiled at their play but did not know how best to announce her presence. She had no need, for Brin noticed her almost as she entered and whispered a word to Thalion so both stood to greet her. She stood in the door, the fading light shining in her flaxen hair and her long pale gown whispering as it brushed the floor.   
  
Brin spoke first for Eomer had spoken much of his sister and she recognised her straight away. "My Lady, may we be of service to you?"  
  
Eowyn replied. "Nay traveller, my brother sent me to you and bade me give you this. He wishes that you join us at board and I do also for I should greatly like to hear the tales of your journey." She handed over the bundle of green fabric she had been carrying and Brin unrolled it and saw to her surprise that it was a dress, of finer make than she had ever held, much like the one that Eowyn herself wore in style, though green in colour and with a running white horse embroidered on the chest.   
  
"Thank you, lady, but I deserve no such clothing."  
  
"Please, it is mine and I insist that you wear it. The King does not come to meat with his captains anymore, but eats in his chambers. Still it is customary to dress for supper at his table and all the others will have changed from the clothes they travelled in."  
  
Brin bowed and voiced her thanks and she saw that in Eowyn's eyes was something of awe towards her though she could not imagine why. For to her Eowyn looked strong and beautiful and she had a place in middle-earth and though Brin did not think that she was free, she thought that she had duties worthy of pride and honour.   
  
Brin came to the hall, with only Thalion for escort, by the side door as the Captains were still arriving. Eomer was standing almost directly opposite her by the table, speaking with a young man, grim but of noble bearing and in someway like to Eomer himself. He had removed the heavy leather and mail armour he wore when abroad and was dressed simply in a dark shirt, with embroidering at the collar, over his trousers, though the colours he wore had not changed from the red and gold she had met him in. His golden hair had been brushed and laid upon his shoulders and he seemed just as easy in the halls of his king as in the field of battle.  
  
She stepped forwards then, into the light, and he beheld her dressed in the green and white of his people with her long hair unbraided and curling behind her and saw revealed in her a new kind of grace and beauty. He excused himself to his companion and went to greet her.   
  
For a moment he did not speak for he wanted to compliment her somehow but could not find the words to do so. Instead he led her into the hall and said,  
  
"Seldom so all the captains meet together in Edoras for the orcs grow bolder and trouble us now on all fronts. But Théodred, the kings son, is here and men from the company of Erkenbrand who holds the westfold and others from further east and north. You have already met Eowyn, my sister, she will join us also."  
  
When all had arrived and been seated they found they had much to discus for it seemed that each company had been kept as busy as the next and few messengers rode between them in the field. Brin listened intently for she was hungry for all news, but especially that concerning the westfold and the gap, for that way her road lay. The men of Erkenbrand said their captain was concerned for his charge and sent word to Eomer saying only that "if a single orc breaches our borders and causes hurt to the men and horses that live in the fold I will give the order to pull back all dwellings further into the mark."   
  
Brin too was questioned and her news also was regarded with interest for she could tell some of the doings of Gondor. Eowyn questioned her most about her journey and her training and Brin could see that a great deal of thought was going on behind each question, though she could not perceive the nature of this thought. At a time Eowyn looked over her shoulder to where Thalion was lying by the fire, licking the marrow from a bone that some servant had thought to give him. Brin followed her gaze and was pleased to see him content.   
  
"Your hound is well behaved for a wild beast," Eowyn mused.  
  
"He is as wild as I am but no more," Brin replied, "And he is not my property but my friend."  
  
Eowyn smiled and had the maid who was serving bring some meat to him. Thalion, who had known he was being discussed, was pleased.  
  
The talking went on long after the meal was done, but gradually the men took their leave and Eowyn also, though she stayed until she would have fallen from her seat in sleep.  
  
At last only Eomer and Brin remained and still they talked, though the hour was both late and early, and Thalion came and lay by their feet.  
  
As they sat next to each other on the long bench they had moved closer together, so that now their legs almost touched though neither had made a conscious effort to do so, and were now reluctant to remove to the fire. The cold began to creep over them but still they talked, and Eomer put his arm around her and she felt safe and warm but was sad also for her road had not lain to his door when she started out and she could not see that it had changed now.   
  
When at last they retired, Eomer walked her to her lodgings though it was not far. "It is not much, but seldom do we have guests in Edoras. These quarters are kept for errand riders that come from outside our lands, though seldom have I seen those either in my lifetime." He said.  
  
"The room is more than I would ask of anyone."  
  
Eomer smiled at her, "Sleep well and dream sweetly."  
  
Brin squeezed his hand for that seemed to her to say all she could say, but not all that she wanted to say. 


	6. Stay

6: Stay  
  
The morning had begun to wear away and Brin had not been awake long when Eomer came to call for her. They went together to the stables and Eomer saddled his horse but Brin only spoke to Mîrran and told her all that had happened since they parted and Thalion added happy rumbling noises when the meal was discussed.  
  
They rode out together into the plains for Eomer wanted to show her some of his land and his only duty that day was to gather news from one of the villages on higher ground that his men guarded.   
  
The sun was warm on their faces as they rode from the gate and all about them were the signs of spring. Brin thought to herself that the sky was much bigger here than it had been at home as she watched the clouds like swift white horses try to keep pace with them. She thought that this land would be fair indeed in summer, when wild flowers sprung up in the meads and the grasses of the plain turned golden in the heat. Fair too it would be in autumn when the harvest came and the orchards bore fruit and the leaves of the trees turned red and brown. She thought kindly also of winter in this land when the ground would be gold and red and brown from fallen leaves and dry grasses and hoped that it would snow here more than it did in the south and blanket the plains in white under a starry sky.   
  
They rode all day, sometimes speaking sometimes in silence but always enjoying the company of each other. Thalion ran tirelessly at their side, even dashing off to bother the rabbits that hopped just on the edge of sight, and Mîrran seemed to be learning a thing or two about how to bear a rider from the horse of Eomer for she seemed at intervals to be imitating him in some ways though she still ran like a wild horse.   
  
They stopped only when they came to the village and then only briefly for there was not much to tell.   
  
They rode on past nightfall and returned to Edoras when the moon was high with the stars looking down upon them.   
  
Brin awoke suddenly the next morning and flung open the door, stepping outside without bothering to wrap even a cloak about her. The north wind blew in through the open door and tugged at her hair and the hem of her liene, dragging her out into its embrace. Tears stung her eyes as she turned and went inside to dress but anyone who saw would think it was only the wind.  
  
She found Eomer in Meduseld and when he saw her with her pack on her back a look came upon his face as of one who is grievously wounded. Before she could even say 'I am leaving' he said. "Stay."  
  
She shook her head sadly. "Stay, please, just one more day, two, only two more days."  
  
"I cannot stay even one more hour." It hurt her greatly to leave him but she knew it would destroy her to stay so she looked into his eyes and hoped he could understand, and that if she came back he would want her there just as much as he did now.  
  
He looked back into her eyes and saw the starlight that shone there tremble and shiver. His spoke to her softly, barely above a whisper, and said, "Would you not stay for love."  
  
Brin bit her lip and her heart beat faster just to hear him say the word. "Oh I would, if only it were in me to stay. But a tree that has no roots must go where the wind blows." The tears were returning and she fought to keep them from falling. "But I go to find my roots and when I am at last capable of staying, of holding on to something, I would hold to you, if you would have me."  
  
"Today and any day." He took her in his arms and they kissed and when at last they parted he held her close and whispered in her ear, "Come back to me." 


End file.
